


Weave Me a Story

by Scilera



Series: They Never Get It Right 'Verse [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Norse Myths & Legends, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-18 02:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scilera/pseuds/Scilera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For many years now, Frigga has been the storyteller of Asgard - the keeper of their myths and history.  She passes on these tales to each passing generation and in doing so creates the magic that humans call by many names - imagination, inspiration, muse...  In this way, her family - broken and scattered though it may be - is given true immortality.</p>
<p>For the span of time in which she tells each story, for those few and precious moments, her family, her life is whole again.</p>
<p>These are her tales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weave Me a Story

**Author's Note:**

> This was something that started as headcanon for my Frigga RP and grew into something that I think adds value to the TNGIR universe - which is undoubtedly where my Frigga comes from. I hope to add to this over time, enriching the world in which I so love to play.

 

 

Nightfall in Asgard was a bittersweet time for its Queen. Standing on one of the many palace balconies that overlooked the sea cliffs, she lifted her head to stare at the swirling greens and silvers of the Serpent Nebula that engulfed their sky in winter – or at least, she thought wryly, what passed for winter on Asgard. Closing her eyes, she inhaled slowly and offered the same whispered prayer she had uttered every night for longer than she cared to remember.

“ _Eikseidr, Yggdrasil, mother of us all, watch over my scattered, broken family. Keep them safe through one more night, for they are beyond my reach.”_

Hands gripping the rail, she let herself drift in sorrow until the sounds of rapid footsteps and peals of laughter pulled her back to the present. A tiny body slammed into her leg, clinging to her skirts and trying to catch its breath. Looking down, she recognized the fiery hair and blue eyes of Rhovan – son of Sif's brother and his wife.

“Lady Frigga! Lady Frigga!” he gasped, bouncing in his excitement. “Will you tell us a story of Thor tonight?” He beamed up at her, his grin missing a few teeth but no less endearing for their lack.

Pulling herself away from the balcony, she knelt to bring her face down to his level as the rest of the children began to arrive, shepherded by the tired minders. The adults all dropped to kneel – even those carrying small ones in their arms – but the children surrounded her like puppies, each one eager to have him- or herself heard first. She spent a moment enjoying their youthful exuberance and returning their greetings, but when she raised a finger to her lips not a single one hesitated to fall silent.

“Rhovan asked first,” she began, giving the little scamp a wry look. “Though he did not strictly follow the rules, tonight we shall hear a tale of Mjolnir and my own children. Come, the fires are lit.”

With gentle hands, she and the other adults herded the children inside, where they gathered on the nest of blankets and pillows scattered at the base of the single chair before a roaring fire. Frigga seated herself in that lone chair and let the others find places of comfort. Rhovan, the scamp, clambered up to sit on the arm of her chair. She considered scolding him for such misuse of the furniture, but decided against it.

It was up to their parents to raise them as they saw fit. She had done as much with her own sons. Now her task was only to teach, to share the richness of magic and stories and lore with each passing generation.

“How many of you,” she began, “have heard your parents or your minders lecture you about the importance of neatness, of keeping track of your toys and belongings?” Frigga smiled as very nearly every hand shot wildly into the air. “It is not much fun to be lectured by anyone, I know. It never gets easier, but I tried to teach my children that same lesson a very long time ago.” She saw the faces of her sons as youths behind her eyes, fresh and bright and voices still cracking with their coming maturity.

“But it was a lesson they would both have to learn for themselves.” She paused, looking around her rapt audience with satisfaction. If she could relate it to things in their own lives, the youngest ones would be most likely to pay attention. Movement from the doorways made her smile widen. The little children were always the first and most consistent of her listeners, but their elders – from those in their first years of training and apprenticeship to wizened masters and warriors – would inevitably follow.

These stories were their heritage. They had been passed on even beyond their own world, to the others among the Nine/

“In times long gone, the Nine Realms were home to a whole host of giant beings aside from those of fire and frost we know now. When Thor and Loki were out of their last sets of practice armor, they were given leave to attend a great feast in the west before their trial of mastery was set them. The Princes of Asgard packed their things, kissed me farewell and rode off into the sunset.”

One small, blonde girl, curled against Frigga's right calf, sighed at the romanticism of this beginning. Looking around those of the court women who had gathered around the outer walls to listen, Frigga could see wistful expressions of a different sort on their faces. She allowed her amusement to twitch one corner of her mouth. Both of her sons were handsome men – had been even at that age – and she was amused each time that manifested itself.

“They arrived at the home of the giant hosting the feast and were much welcomed. There was fine food and good wine. There were skilled minstrels and much of the night was lost in dancing and laughter. Thor and Loki both enjoyed themselves greatly and left the celebration in high spirits. But it was not until they reached the very gates of Asgard that Thor realized something was amiss. In his delight and fun, he had completely forgotten to retrieve Mjolnir from its place against his chair when they left the feast!”

Almost as one, the children scattered at her feet gasped with shock. For some of them, it was the first time they had heard this particular tale.

“Both boys were very much afraid, because Mjolnir had been a gift from their father, Odin, King of all Asgard and Vanaheimr, to Thor. It was a treasure of Asgard and if its power fell into the wrong hands, our beautiful city would surely be doomed.”

Frigga paused, enjoying in the manner of all storytellers the absolute silence in the room.

“Loki, thinking quickly, snuck into the palace through the secret passages and came to me in my spinning room.

'Mother!' cried he. 'Thor has lost Mjolnir in the land of the giants. You must lend me your cloak of falcon feathers so that I may go and find where it has gone.'

I was frightened – both for my sons and for my home – and I retrieved the cloak for him without delay.

'My son,' said I, 'if these feathers were made of silver, I would still cloak you in them. Now fly and find Mjolnir. Be swift, be safe.' And he leaped from my window and flew out into the dawn. For that cloak was not just any garment, but a thing of magic that would change anyone who wore it into a mighty bird.”

“Do you still have that cloak, Lady Frigga?” Rhovan asked breathlessly, eyes as wide as saucers. Several of the older children shushed at him, but the queen did not mind. She offered the young child an impish, conspiratorial smile and leaned in close to stage whisper. “Yes, I do.”

This created great excitement among the young ones, but Frigga was not finished with her story.

“Loki flew all through that day, its night and the following morning. He flew until his wings ached and his body felt heavy. It was only then that he spied a familiar giant and landed on a nearby tree branch to watch and listen. It was Thrym, the stupidest and yet most conniving of all the giants. He knelt down under the tree to fasten collars of gold around the necks of his hounds.

'Now, my faithful companions, I fasten collars of gold about your necks, but soon I will be clothe you all in Asgard's finery. Your collars shall be studded with emeralds and I will have diamonds for the breastplates and bridles of my stallions.'

Now for one such as Thrym to boast of soon having all the riches of Asgard was an odd and worrying thing. It was then that Loki recalled seeing him at the feast where Mjolnir had been lost.”

Another rustle of movement at the door caught her eye and Frigga's smile warmed as the Warriors Three, jostled by Lady Sif herself, came to join the others.

“And Loki, still disguised as a great bird, called down to Thrym, that stupid giant.

'Thrym of the West, how come you to be so assured of this treasure that belongs to the gods alone?'

Thrym squinted up into the tree, but seeing only a bird, he laughed and was not afraid.

'Because,' he shouted joyfully. 'I have Mjolnir, mighty weapon of Asgard's treasury. With it I shall destroy the gods and claim their treasures for my own house.'

Now Loki was afraid, because so great was Mjolnir's might that Thrym could very well make good on his threats. But my youngest son has always been wise beyond his years and too clever by half.

'But Thrym,' he cajoled. 'How much _work_ it would be to wield Mjolnir and so destroy the realm of Asgard.' He chose his words carefully, for Thrym was famously lazy and did not like to do anything which required hard work on his part. 'Would it not be easier to simply return the hammer to the Allfather? The gratitude and generosity of the Aesir is legendary. Surely they would amply reward you for such an act.'

And Thrym thought about this, but he shook his head. 'There is only one reward I could want in exchange for Mjolnir, mighty hammer of the gods, and they would not give it up.'

Now Loki could think of very few things indeed that his father would not be willing to part with for the safe return of Mjolnir, so he cajoled some more.

'I have, on occasion, the ear of the Allfather.' For the legend of my husband's ravens had spread far and wide even so long ago. 'Tell me what reward it is you so desire and I will bring it for the King's consideration.'

'It is for a wife I long,' said cruel, stupid Thrym. 'Freyja, beloved of the Vanir and sister to Asgard's Queen... She is the maid who has so captured my eye, for long have the giants sought her as wife. She has eluded them all, and it is her alone which I would take for Mjolnir.'

This knowledge sat heavy in Loki's heart, but he took off from that tree and carried the news back to Odin his father.”

Frigga saw Sif roll her eyes and she gave the shield maiden a stern look. She half expected defiance – though she loved Sif, the warrior's dislike of Loki was no secret – but to her surprise the younger woman paled and lowered her head in a silent apology.

“Odin called together the royal council of Asgard and they heard Loki's news with heavy hearts. Freyja my sister was much beloved by all. No one could bear the thought of her marriage to such a cruel and stupid giant, but if Thrym and his armies attacked with the power of Mjolnir then all was surely lost.

'Be at peace,' spoke my son to those assembled. 'Do not consign yourselves to despair. I know a way in which Mjolnir can be retrieved without the loss of my aunt.'

'How is such a thing to be done, my son?' our king asked. 'If your mind has devised a way for this, then share it with us now that our hope may not die.'

'It will not be easy,' Loki admitted to the council. 'It will require one of our warriors to disguise himself as a bride in her finery. I will follow disguised as a bridesmaid and when Mjolnir is presented as the bridal price, he and I can destroy those who would threaten us.'

It was indeed a good plan, a wise plan, but Odin was much troubled. 'What man would disgrace himself by donning a gown, veil and wreath?'

For in those days,” Frigga looked back to Sif and smiled warmly. All was forgiven, “we did not yet have the Lady Sif among the ranks of our warriors.” The woman in question blushed quite prettily and there were indulgent chuckles throughout the room.

“But Loki had an answer even for this.

'Let it be Thor who disguises himself as the bride. It was he whose carelessness landed us in this mess. Let him be the one to repair the damage he has done.'

And Odin and all his council heard this advice. They saw the wisdom of it and they agreed. And so Loki went to find Thor and tell him the plan. He found him in the practice courts, for my oldest son found peace in fighting through his worry.

'Brother,' he called. 'I have spoken with Father and the council. I have a way to retrieve Mjolnir and they have approved, but I need your help.'

Thor was overjoyed and filled with relief. He beamed at his brother and embraced him heartily. 'I should have known it would be your tricks that would save us. Tell me, how are we to save Mjolnir?'

Thor's words hurt his brother, for he felt that his contribution was something more than simple 'tricks'. It made him enjoy his next words more than he otherwise would have.

'You must disguise yourself as our aunt Freyja. You will don the bridal gown and veil and wear a wreath of flowers on your brow.'

When Thor heard this, he was taken aback and sad. He looked to his brother with desperation in his eyes. 'I cannot do this thing you ask, brother. Surely there must be another way. If I garb myself thus, all of Asgard will laugh at me. I will be the butt of jokes for the next hundred years or more.'

And though Loki had been spiteful in his words, he loved his brother and was touched by his fear. He clasped the back of Thor's neck and spoke kindly to him.

'But if you do not do this, brother, no one in Asgard will ever laugh again.' He could see his words' impact on his brother and continued. 'Have no fear. I will be with you, disguised as your bridesmaid. If Asgard laughs at you, they laugh at me as well. And what do we care if they laugh at us?'

Thor was comforted by this, reassured that no matter what, his brother would be by his side.”

Frigga had to pause there, eyes sliding closed as more recent memories added a bitter twist to this part of her tale. The last time she had told this story, both of her boys had sat on a bench against the far wall, laughing and poking at each other and interrupting the telling with details of their own memory.

How things had changed.

A servant appeared at her elbow with a goblet of water and she accepted it gratefully, allowing the cool liquid to soothe her dry throat before continuing.

“And so, the brothers disguised themselves and journeyed to the hall of Thrym, the cruelest and most stupid of the giants. Word had spread far and wide of their coming. By the time they arrived, Thrym and his mother had prepared a feast the likes of which their land had never seen. Giants came from far and wide to witness this historic occasion. Thrym's mother kissed the bride on her veiled cheeks and led her to the seat of honor at the table, along with her bridesmaid.

Now Thor, disguised as Freyja, was hungry and delighted by the offered delights. He ate three _whole_ oxen!”

The children gasped at that, unable to imagine such a thing at their small sizes.

“Loki elbowed his brother and tried to signal him to be more ladylike, but Thor paid no heed. Now, the giants had heard tales of Freyja's delicate beauty, and when they saw the bride consume such a large amount they laughed and began to make jokes. Loki feared that suspicion might arise, especially since his brother was on his third keg of ale as well.

'Forgive my mistress,' he said, lowering his lashes in the manner of coy court ladies. “So excited was she about the occasion of her wedding day that we could not persuade her to eat during the whole of our journey.'

Since the trip between Asgard and Thrym's hall was easily eight days, the giants nodded their heads and spoke amongst themselves that after eight days of fasting, it was no wonder she did not consume _five_ whole oxen!”

That line, as it was intended to do, made her youngest listeners giggle with delight and Frigga found herself smiling along with them.

“Thor, disguised as my sister Freyja, reached for another cask of ale, but the motion lifted his veil just enough that the giant next to him was given a glimpse of his fiery eyes in the darkness beneath. The giant was shocked and pale. Loki, ever watchful, knew that he would have to think quickly to prevent complete disaster.

 

'Please forgive my mistress her appearance, kind sir. Her excitement was so great that we were unable to soothe her into slumber from the time it was announced she was marry. So many nights without slumber have made her eyes frightening and fiery.'

At this, the giants laughed amongst themselves. 'She will sleep well after tonight!' they called, for giants as a whole were crass and base creatures.

Fearful of yet another slip, Loki beckoned Thrym's mother.

'I fear for my mistress,' said he, with sly cunning. 'This much excitement after so many days of stress on her body surely will leave her overwrought.' Thrym's mother was not as cruel and stupid as he. She saw the wisdom in this and called for the ceremony to begin.”

She took another sip of her water.

“Now, the first part of the marriage rites is that the price being paid to the bride's family must be presented to the bride. She must hold it in her hands and judge it to be what was promised and consent to the exchange. So Thrym sent for Mjolnir, had it brought up from the place deep within the earth where he had conspired with the dwarves to keep it hidden. The hammer was placed into the bride's hands to be judged.”

Rhovan beside her was nearly shaking from the enthusiasm with which he anticipated the coming bloodshed. Frigga sighed, her smile indulgent. Some things would never change.

“With Mjolnir in his hand, Thor ripped away the veil and Loki changed both their gowns into their armor. The two brothers stood back to back and fought every giant in the hall, destroying those who would bring ruin to the steps of their beloved home.”

The young ones cheered, as they always did. Even some of the older ones offered a 'hear hear' or 'huzzah' as their natures dictated. Nearly everyone smiled.

“And the next day, the brothers rode home to a hero's welcome. Mjolnir was laid at the Allfather's feet and both of my children were pronounced to be true sons of Asgard – worthy of their titles as Prince and of their true warrior's armor.”

“Lady Frigga,” a small voice broke the sad and stilted silence that followed her story's conclusion. That same blonde child who had sighed at the story's beginning now tugged on her skirts with an expression of concern. She now recognized her as the daughter of one of her husband's advisers.

“Yes, Astrid?”

“You miss them, don't you?” Frigga didn't have the heart to correct her grammar. It was hard enough simply to nod and answer.

“Yes, I do. I miss them every single day.”

 


End file.
